RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
2003-05-04
Anissa Jones
3.11.58 West Lafayette, Indiana / D. 8.28.76 Oceanside, California
Drug Overdose
I’m trying to keep up with the war and peace news and of course I’m delighted that it’s done again to beat yourself with chains in Najaf.
Liberation! Gives us hope for the subway token.
As the pictures dwindle, though, I face an information drought; for I can’t absorb the content of the crawls across the bottom of the TV screen. They’re like a dew that doesn’t do it for me.
The molecules are too big.
It was about a year ago on CNN, I read: blah blah blah blah Actress Anna Paquin and my eyes shut down
Anna Paquin dead! Too young too beautiful too talented to die of drugs a plane crash self-inflicted gunshot wound another terrorist attack!
I sat, slack-eyed, heartsick, waiting for the crawl to come around again; and when it did, what did I see?
“Actress Anna Paquin turns” some age “today” is more or less exactly what.
I am all about observing the proprieties.
Only grown men use chains. Boys beat themselves on the chest with their fists. It’s rapture.
But since that bogus birthday scare I can’t accept the TV screen crawl form. To me, the strings of news-like words are only marks scratched a wall; and every mark is counting down a moment towards the final moment when the message finally comes:
The real one about the actress Anna Paquin.
Consolation Site: Long and Hard (Warning: MIDIs)